


take the long way home

by icecreamsocialist



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Zayn the zoologist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27700900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icecreamsocialist/pseuds/icecreamsocialist
Summary: The ride’s a million times better in reverse. They coast downhill, wind in their hair, Niall’s breath hot on his neck. Zayn doesn’t need to pretend the ease is all down to gravity. He’s had two years to accept reality, plus half a degree in Literature to fully grasp metaphors.(Niall hops on the back of Zayn’s bike after a party.)
Relationships: Niall Horan/Zayn Malik
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39





	take the long way home

**Author's Note:**

> A largely pointless uni au, written many years ago after reports of Zayn removing Niall from a Vegas club in the middle of the night on his birthday. It was supposed to be part of a larger story, but being that there’s a ziall drought on, and being that I have no idea what else was supposed to happen (beyond the obvious), I figured I’d post what I’ve got.

Zayn doesn’t bother checking his texts again. Niall’s with Harry, so peddling toward the distant bongo drums seems like a safe bet. Definitely quicker than searching for “the house w da massive pterodactyl.” The fact that Niall spelled it right gives Zayn some pause, but he can’t imagine watching a bunch of white people play bongo drums without taking MDMA, so he’s not trusting the pterodactyl. As sick as it sounds.

Collecting Niall during Derby’s off season is a bit like looking for Carmen Sandiego. Last weekend, it was a tapas restaurant with Greenie’s socialist mates; Thursday, it was the trampoline club and martinis, shaken very well. Zayn didn’t even know they had a trampoline club.

But what would Zayn need a trampoline club for, anyway? He keeps plenty fit as an eco-friendly Uber service for his best mates. Or, well, one of his best mates. Zayn takes a break at the bottom of a massive hill to try and work out why that is.

He’s in the middle of thinking about the sharp cut of Niall’s collarbones when his pocket vibrates. 

_Got u sum thing :;)_

He scrolls back to look at the messages that came in during the ride over.

_Haz got blue drink all down his top so I’m making him a new one outa towels_

__

__

_Told him it looked good , it didn’t_

 _Ahaahahhaa Classic. Wata_

_Idiot_

_Jesus crust why aren’t u here ,?_

Jesus crust is right, Zayn thinks. He leans into the incline, synchronising his peddling with the bloody drums.

The house finally comes into view, and with it, an actual metal pterodactyl on the roof. Still, Zayn’s more interested in the porch, with its actual grinning Niall. His legs kick out and thump back against the rotting wood, and a bottle-shaped something bulges out the front of his vest. It’s the one Zayn made for his birthday, he realises, and pedals a bit harder.

“Hey,” Zayn gasps, once he’s rolled up to the porch. He wipes the sweat from his hairline and tries to look unimpressed. “There’s a pterodactyl on the roof.”

“Why wouldn’t there be?” Niall stumbles onto the grass, clutching at his stomach like he’s got a baby in there. Zayn gives it a poke when he comes over.

“Precious cargo?”

“I had to steal something. These people are twats,” Niall says, pulling a bottle of vodka out from under his top and waving it at Zayn. “You know they’ve got a drum circle inside?”

Zayn laughs. Niall grins. He’s flushed and drunk, hair full of static, purple lippy smeared under his jaw and down his throat. Zayn tries not to think about what that means.

“Is Harry coming?” Zayn says, after they grin at each other for longer than feels safe.

Niall doesn’t say anything until he’s climbed up the back of Zayn’s bike, feet wobbling on the pegs.

“‘Fraid he’s not invited. Alright?”

Niall wraps an arm around Zayn, perching his chin on his shoulder.

“No,” Zayn answers honestly. 

“Well.” Niall points ahead. “Go gadget getaway bike!” 

It’s the wrong direction, but Zayn go go goes anyway. For about one block. Then he turns and takes them home.

The ride’s a million times better in reverse. They coast downhill, wind in their hair, Niall’s breath hot on Zayn’s neck. Zayn doesn’t need to pretend the ease is all down to gravity. He’s had two years to accept reality, plus half a degree in Literature to fully grasp metaphors.

“Think you’ll get a car, now that you’ve got your license?” Niall asks at the halfway point. He’s breathing like he’s the one doing all the work.

“What’s wrong with my bike?” Zayn says. “Also, you don’t have to shout, your mouth is literally right next to my ear.”

“Is it?” Niall shouts, then sticks a wet finger in it.

Zayn yelps. They veer dangerously close to a fire hydrant and go rocketing up over the curb, landing in someone’s garden. He digs his boots into the lawn but Niall keeps going, flailing for balance and stumbling straight into a line of hedges. The only bit of him Zayn can see is his hand, holding a bottle of Glen’s vodka aloft like an Olympic torch.

“If I had a car,” says Zayn, “you’d have definitely killed us, just now.”

Niall falls backward out of the hedge. The vodka rolls gently into his ankle. Like magnets, Zayn thinks. How romantic. He laughs for a long time.

“Full marks on that dismount, babe,” he manages eventually, hanging weakly off the handlebars. “Very graceful.”

Niall gives a thumbs up, and then the middle finger. It takes him a few tries to get vertical, mainly because he’s laughing, too, but he eventually makes it back over without further incident.

“Did I get any grass stains on me top?” he says.

Zayn puts down his kickstand and inspects, dusting off his back, taking longer than necessary to brush a leaf from his bare shoulder. A caterpillar’s picking its way through the haphazard terrain of his fringe. Zayn holds his hand out until it crawls onto his finger.

“Gross,” Niall says, when he shows him.

“Cuter than you.”

Niall pulls a face but still gives it a gentle stroke with his pinky. “You could get this one in past your landlord, I’d reckon.”

Zayn shakes his head. “She’s on high alert after the thing with the chinchilla. Plus it wouldn’t be fair to just, like, rip it from its home like that, no warning. You know?”

“Not without its family, at least.”

“Right,” Zayn murmurs, watching it crawl along his lifeline. He bends down to put it back in the grass.

“Wouldn’t wanna get booked for caterpillar-napping.”

“You’re taking the piss,” Zayn says, nudging it away from Niall’s shoe, “but I really wouldn’t.”

“I know you wouldn’t.”

When Zayn looks up, Niall’s smiling down at him. “Zaynie the zoologist,” he says. “Can our safari be done now?”

Zayn stands. He concentrates on getting the rusty kickstand back up so he doesn’t have to look at Niall. “If you sit down, maybe, this time,” he says, “and stay out of the landscaping.”

“Oh,” Niall says. “Oh ho! I get it now.”

“Get what?”

“Why you won’t get a car.” Niall hops clumsily up on the seat, chest pressed flush to Zayn’s back. The sudden warmth of him sets a chill in Zayn’s spine. 

“Because I haven’t got any money?” Zayn says.

“No.”

“Because I’m terrified of driving?”

“No,” Niall says again. “You just want a cuddle. I know, it’s okay. I’m very good at it.”

“Yeah, that’s it,“ Zayn says. It doesn’t sound half as sarcastic as it should. "I love riding my bike at, like, two in the morning with a human backpack on.”

“Knew it,” Niall crows. His thumb slips under the hem of Zayn’s top for two excruciating seconds. Zayn counts.

And then he breathes, and laughs, and steers them back onto the street.

Zayn’s spent the past two years counting seconds. The good thing about them’s the same as the bad: They never get any longer.

**Author's Note:**

> The giant roof pterodactyl is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual giant roof pterodactyls on college campuses is purely coincidental...


End file.
